


Fursuit

by Geist



Category: Sequential Art - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Furry, Furry/Human, Masturbation, Riding, Seated Position, Sex, Squirrel - Freeform, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 15:11:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19253707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geist/pseuds/Geist
Summary: Art’s all dressed up in his tux, ready for a fancy party, but Scarlet’s feeling needy. How are they going to solve her problem without turning Art’s suit into a bright red hairy nightmare?





	Fursuit

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are portrayed as 18+

Art regarded himself in the mirror. Not bad, he supposed. His tuxedo jacket almost fit, his bow-tie was on straight and didn't constrict his jugular too much. His shirt was about as white as it was going to get, and his trousers were definitely trousers. He'd even managed to put a shine on his dress shoes, which usually sat in the back of the cupboard and gathered dust.

So, booted and suited, check. Artists' and Graphic Designers' Ball and Banquet in two hours, check. Plenty of time for the suit to become hot and uncomfortable, preparing him for when he got there and it turned really hot and uncomfortable. Oh, and invitation tucked into his pocket, next to a handkerchief folded according to hastily googled youtube instructions. Though Art, if he was honest with himself, had shown up to the venue and found himself without his ticket he wouldn't have been too put out. Professional networking was a real pain in the neck. Or maybe that was the bow-tie.

Art gave himself one last look, stretched, turned away from the mirror and headed out of his room. Down the stairs he went, through the hall, into the living room. And there was Scarlet, in all her russet-furred sciurine glory. She was sitting on the arm of the sofa, fluffy tail flicking behind her. That wasn't unusual. She was masturbating, which...still wasn't that unusual. Though she only tended to do it when Pip and Kat were out of the house.

Try as he might to ignore her, Art watched for a few seconds. She was a very attractive squirrel girl, after all, and he had his urges. Her shirt was hiked up over her thighs, one hand pressed hard against her crotch, rubbing away, while her other arm was flung out behind her, supporting herself. She had her head tipped back, mouth open, little squeaky moans escaping her. There was the unmistakable sound of fingers thrusting into and pulling out of somewhere tight and sopping wet. A swathe of lighter brown fur ran up from her inner thighs, over her groin, up across her belly, breasts and neck, where it terminated just below her chin. It was this fur that was matted down around her privates, turned translucent by her wetness so Art could see the pink shades of her lips beneath.

A particularly intense shiver rolled through Scarlet, and she cried out. Her eyes snapped open, and she caught sight of Art.

"Oh, hiya Arty," she said, tipping her head to one side. She took her hand away from her snatch, raised it, her juices dripping from her fingers. "Wanna come help me out?"

He sighed. "No, Scarlet. Not right now. Sorry."

"Aww, why not?" Scarlet's eyes grew large and puppylike. 

"I've got this thing. The party, remember?"

"Thass not for a while you said! C'mon, there's time."

"And I'm all dressed up..."

"Yeah!" Scarlet bounced on her makeshift seat. "You look rilly smart."

"So in other words, I can't get your fur all over me."

"Oh? Is that it?"

Instantly, Scarlet was up on her feet, skittering over to him. She grabbed his wrist, held him in a surprisingly strong grip and pulled him over to the sofa, urging him to sit. For the sake of peace, Art did, though not without some trepidation.

"Stay right there," she said. "I gotta idea."

Gripping the hem of her shirt, Scarlet tugged it up and off, shaking her head as she popped it out of the neck hole. Art swallowed. He was going to get messy, dishevelled and sweaty, he knew it. But, oh hell, boobs. Lovely firm round squirrel tits with little pink nipples poking out through pale cappuccino fur. It might be worth it.

“Maybe a handjob, then? Then I can do the same for you.”

Scarlet said nothing as she delicately took hold of Art’s zipper and pulled it down. She reached into his fly, plucking at the waistband of his underpants, and freed his cock. He was half-hard already, and he gasped as her silky soft fingers closed around his shaft. Slowly, bent over so he was eye-level with her breasts, she rubbed him into full erection.

“There!” she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “All nice an’ hard.”

Hard was right. Art’s prick stuck straight up, twitching. Scarlet retrieved her shirt and arranged it neatly around his lap, covering his trousers.

“An’ that’ll keep my furs offa you.”

“Right.” Art said, dubiously, not mentioning the vast amount of fur already clinging to the inside of her top. “From your hands, yes?” Again, she was silent. Evasive, Art thought, and wondered if she really was planning to do what he’d asked.

She was not. With an uncharacteristically shy smile, she climbed onto the sofa and straddled his lap.

“Jacket!” he warned. “Fur!”

Scarlet leaned back, gripping his shoulders to hold herself up. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I just gotta not touch you.”

Slowly, she lowered herself onto his cock. Her lips pressed against it and he felt her heat through the fine fur covering them, then they split apart, engulfed him, her quim drooling juice down his length. Her tightness took him: slick, muscular walls rolled over the head of his dick, gliding across his skin. Scarlet moaned and squirmed, piling on all her weight until she was right down to his root, holding him there, deep inside herself.

“Eeee, better than fingers!” she squealed, wriggling in his lap.

“Okay, didn’t entirely expect that.”

“Izzit good?”

“Y-yeah. I guess we can do this. Just...be careful, okay?”

“A-kay!”

She lifted herself off, dropped back down, rolling her hips. A jolt of pleasure ran through Art, and he groaned, wriggled back into the sofa and pressed his hands against the cushions. The jolt became a wave as Scarlet rode him, her lithe, limber thighs pumping away, muscles in her stomach clenching and unclenching. Her breasts bounced along with her, nipples flicking up and down. Art reached out, grabbed one, buried his fingers in her fur. He dragged his thumb over her nipple, pressing it back into its surrounding areola, rolling and tweaking it.

“Ahh, Arty!” Scarlet said, her voice a breathy squeal, “Feels good!”

She ramped up her speed, eyes closed in concentration, her mouth open and her tongue protruding ever so slightly. Art let his hands rove over her body, ruffling her fur, trying to distract himself from the ever more urgent messages telegraphing themselves up his spine. With a shrill cry, Scarlet flung her arms around Art, hugging him tight. She began to hump him like crazy, his cock shunting back and forth inside her pussy, loud squishy noises accompanying every thrust as he ground against her wet flesh.

"Woah, woah, hey!" he said. "Hold on." He prised her off himself, heart thumping. Quite apart from getting her fur on his clothes, he wasn't going to last if she kept that up. He slipped his hands down to Scarlet's bum, cupping her cheeks. "Easy, yeah?"

Scarlet bit her lip, but leaned back, rested her hands on his knees and let him set the pace. With him holding her, she was able to loosen the grip of her legs around his waist, and Art watched as he lifted her. His cock emerged from her, glistening, while her lips clung to it, as reluctant to let him go as her tight tunnel was. Her little pink clit stood out hard and proud, and he carefully took one hand off her butt and rubbed his way around her button, making her squeak through clenched teeth. Returning his hand to her rear, he pulled her gently back down, and he immersed himself in her warmth again, a wobbly moan escaping his throat.

Scarlet wriggled in Art's grasp, uttering frustrated whimpers. She was clearly desperate for more but, for now, was keeping her manic energy contained. It escaped from her in squirrelly twitches, swishes of her tail and jerks of her hips. Art kept up his gradual pace, all his attention on what he could feel: her weight on his hands, the sleekness of her fur, the way his foreskin peeled back when he pushed into her and was dragged back when he pulled out, how her walls pulsed and rippled around him. Another shaky breath left him, and Scarlet groaned in tandem.

Their meditative lovemaking wasn't to last. With an impassioned cry, Scarlet threw her hands around his back, leaning back so that her pussy slid right to the base of his cock.

"Sorry," she said. "I gotta."

And he let her, too close now to argue, and reasoning that she deserved whatever she wanted from him. He reached out and cupped her tits, squeezing them gently, flicking her nipples, while she used her legs to thrust herself back, whining sweetly. While she bounced against him, driving his cock into herself, he kept on playing with her breasts, jiggling them in his palms, her own movements making them tremble in his grasp.

Art's pleasure rose; he trembled, crossing the point of no return. He held himself back, hot chills running through him, body tense from groin to neck. Scarlet threw her head back, screaming a series of sharp trills, and convulsed, shuddering. Her pussy clamped down hard, and he knew she'd taken what she needed. He came, with relief, with gratitude, moaning as burst after burst of hot cum flooded out of him and into her.

Scarlet flopped back, panting, nearly overbalancing, and looked down at the white corona leaking from where they were conjoined. She giggled, holding a hand to her mouth, and Art couldn’t help but laugh with her.

“Yay!” she said. “No furs, see?”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” he said, gently. “I feel a lot less stressed about this party.”

Carefully, they extricated themselves from one another. Scarlet wiped off his cock with her shirt and put it back on.

“I’ll wash eet!” she said, at his disapproving glance.

To Art’s surprise his trousers had come out of their clinch unscathed, and with Scarlet’s care his jacket was as good as new. He went out to the hall and regarded himself as best he could in the small mirror there. Glancing down, he zipped up his fly.

A little while later, Scarlet saw him to the door.

“Seeya, Arty,” she said. “Have fun at the wedding.”

“It’s a graphic designers’ function,” Art said, “but thanks. See you.” He turned to go.

“Umm…” Scarlet said. Art turned back.

“Yeah?”

“Uhh, nevermind.”

Art turned again, shrugging. It was only after the party that he discovered the two furry handprints planted right on the back of his jacket.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to anonymous for this one. Follow me at:
> 
> twitter.com/GeistyGeist  
> geistygeist.tumblr.com


End file.
